


tommy come down

by animalcrossings



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Exiled!Tommy, Gen, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Tommy and Tubbo are best friends, Villain!Dream, happy endings, new lmanberg, president!tubbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28594455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animalcrossings/pseuds/animalcrossings
Summary: “Tommy, Tommy,” A voice calls from below.“Tommy come down, won't you get up off- get up off the roof?”---------------------song fic based on "achilles come down" by gang of youthsloosely based on the dreamsmp scene where tommy stood staring into lava.READ NOTES FIRST!!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	tommy come down

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning for themes of suicide, please keep that in mind before reading!  
> with that said, hope you all enjoy!

“Tommy, Tommy,” A voice calls from below.  
“Tommy come down, won't you get up off- get up off the roof?”  
A wide-eyed, brown-haired boy stands on the blackstone bridge, near the nether portal. He’s shouting to him, Tommy knows this, but the words don’t seem to click. He’s perched atop a dirt block tower, gazing down at the bubbling pits of the lava lake below him. 

“You're scaring us, and all of us-“ He cries. “Some of us love you. Tommy, It's not much but there's proof.”  
The boy holds out a compass, and Tommy’s breath hitches in his throat. _Your Tubbo._

He shows Tommy heaps of other items, blue from Ghostbur, the prime log recently recovered from Technoblade’s base, a photo from Big Q. They mean nothing to him. Material items won’t sew the hole in his heart. They’re nothing but faint memories from people who left him behind, alone and afraid in exile. ‘They don’t want me,’ He thinks. ‘Don’t care about me.’

Tubbo’s dressed in a new suit, a fine contrast to Tommy’s ragged clothes that have been worn down by the weather. He’s the President of New L’manberg now.  
_L’manberg._  
Tommy’s former home. The country and people who sent him away.  
As though sensing his thoughts, Tubbo calls out again: “Redemption lies plainly in truth.”

Redemption? Tommy doubts he could ever think of them the same. In his eyes, they’re the ones who need redeeming; they’re the ones who caused him pain. They’re the ones who should apologize to **him.** Though, he knows that’s not the way they see it, and he’s too stubborn to accept any other conditions. 

“The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken. Remember the pact of our youth.”  
Tommy’s quiet, he’s thinking, trying to recall what that means. They’d known each other for years, since they were small, and had made many promises to one another. He was always the one to break them.

Tubbo teeters dangerously close to the edge in demonstration. “Where you go I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping, since there is no me without you.” He asserts, voice wavering. 

Guilt burns within Tommy as he thinks about the selflessness of his friend. No one else would risk it all just to join him in the afterlife. He swallows and leans back slightly.

Taking this as a good sign, Tubbo breaths in relief and continues. “Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone, engage with the pain as a motive.” He reaches his hand up to Tommy, gesturing for him to come down.  
He could climb down right now, clasp his friend in a hug, and work through it. Together.

“Today of all days, see,” Tubbo pauses. “How the most dangerous thing is to love.”  
Tommy knows that one’s true. He loved his friends and family dearly, and look where that got him. He loved L’manberg, which he got cast out of twice, and it got blown apart by Wilbur — who he thought he could trust. Love only gets him hurt. 

“How you will heal and you'll rise above.”  
Maybe he’s right, Tommy thinks to himself.  
Maybe he’s been alone for long enough.

A slow, dramatic clapping comes from the opposite side, and a masked man clothed in green enters the scene.  
“Tommy, Tommy,” he drawls. “Tommy, jump now, you are absent of cause or excuse.”  
He gulps. The old Tommy would have made a sharp retort, sending a crude insult Dream’s way. Not anymore.

He brandishes a diamond axe that glows with enchantments. “So self-indulgent, and self-referential.” Dream scoffs. “No audience could ever want you.”  
Deep down, Tommy knows he’s right. It was like Wilbur had said a long time ago; he would never be President. No country, no people, could bare him as a leader anymore. His hunger for his discs made him lose sight of the strength that comes with teamwork.

Under his mask, Dream grinned shrewdly, an expression which carried into his words as he spoke. “It is empty, Tommy, so end it all now — It's a pointless resistance, for you.”  
He pulled a small glass bottle from his pocket and tossed it up Tommy, who caught it with one hand. The swirling green liquid mesmerized him, and he pondered about how easy it would be to down the poison in one gulp.  
How easy it would be to give up.

Distraught, Tubbo jumped in, dragging Tommy out of his thoughts and back into reality.  
“Tommy.” He pleaded.  
“Tommy, just put down the bottle. Don't listen to what you've consumed.”  
He looked down at Tubbo, saw the desperate look in his eyes, and temporarily pocketed the potion. He hadn’t come to the nether to die by poison.

This time, Tubbo sounded as if he was speaking from experience. “You may feel no purpose, nor a point for existing.”

“It's all just conjecture and gloom.” Tommy rasped back.  
Tubbo’s eyes widened, surprised that the other had responded, and nodded along. He knew how that felt. He’d served under Schlatt, been forced into the presidency at such a young age, had his every move criticized by Dream. They were one in the same. 

“And there may not be meaning,” the boy declared, clenching his fist. “So find one and seize it.”  
‘Easier said than done, my friend.’ Tommy thought with a deranged sort of chuckle.

“Do _not_ waste your self on this roof.”  
The severity of Tubbo’s tone was something he hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since many months prior, in the summer sun of August, as the heat scorched down upon their very first war. The perilous circumstances of the war for L’manberg had required a certain sense of solemnity, and had greatly matured them all. 

With a deep breath, Tubbo went on. “Feel your breath course frankly below; See life as a worthy opponent.”  
Tommy had always been the more aggressive of the two, seeking out violence at any opportunity possible. He was always looking for someone to argue with, fights to instigate. 

“Ah,” the brown haired boy remarked. “It’s more courageous to overcome.” He shrugged.  
Tubbo had a point. If Tommy could prove that he’d survived exile, lived through everything they’d thrown at him, faced every obstacle and come out unscathed, they’d have to admire him. Praise him. Apologize for sending him away. 

Eyes narrowed, Dream cleared his throat. “You want the acclaim, the ‘mother of mothers’.”  
Tommy thinks about how fervently he sought Wilbur’s approval. He would have done anything to please him, to make him proud. That’s how he lost his discs in the first place — trading them away for the independence Wilbur wanted. Yet, he didn’t regret it. 

_(“It’s not worth it, Tommy.” Tubbo yells)_

“More poignant than fame.” The presidency of L’manberg.  
“Or the taste of another.” Dream offers him a second potion, this one gleaming a dark shade of purple. 

_(“Don't listen, Tommy.”)_

Tommy looks at Tubbo, who’s voice is hoarse from shouting over Dream’s. He turns to Dream with a frown, giving a small shake of his head.

With a grunt of frustration, he swings out his axe and shouts, “Be real and just jump, you dense _**motherfucker.**_ ”  
Tommy’s blood runs cold. Dream is speaking to him like he was on the day he said he didn’t care about Spirit, that the only thing he wanted was the discs. On one hand, it terrifies him. Yet on the other, it calms him. He’s been spoken to like this before, so many times it almost doesn’t phase him. He’s not phased by much anymore.

_(Tubbo chokes out, “You're worth more, Tommy.”)_

He highly doubts that’s true. ‘Worth more to who?’ He wonders sullenly. Certainly not Wilbur, or Technoblade, or any of his old friends, for that matter. The people who showed him kindness only ended up breaking him apart. Worthless, useless, pathetic. 

Dream pinches the bridge of his nose. “You want my opinion-“  
“No one asked your opinion.” Tubbo cuts him off. 

“You asked for my counsel,” He tries again.  
But Tubbo doesn’t let up. “No one asked for your thoughts.” 

Their voices harmonize into one, both trying to talk over the other and get their message across. It would almost sound beautiful if it weren’t for the heavy meaning of the words and the dire situation they were in.  
“Be done with this now, and [ **jump** / _get_ ] off the roof.  
Can you hear me, Tommy? I'm talking to you.”

Everything is ringing. Tommy covers his ears with his hands, trying to make it stop, but it doesn’t. The outside noises are muffled but the incessant ringing is still there. He wants to scream, wants to rip his ears off the sides of his head. **Anything** to make the pain cease. His head is pounding and it’s all too much, the fumes of the nether seep into his lungs and suddenly he can’t breathe. He feels the bottle still in his pocket, and gazes down at the molten sea below him.

Maybe not _anything._

“I'm talking to you.” The smaller boy sobs, tears flowing down his cheeks. He slumps to the floor in agony, whispering over and over again, “I'm talking to you… I’m talking to you…”

Dream is standing there, a smirk under his mask, thinking he’s won. Tommy won’t let him have the satisfaction of that. He looks directly into the soulless smiley face and tosses the green potion down into the lava, where it hisses and burns instantly. The movement and noise catches Tubbo’s attention, and he glances up at the top of the dirt pillar. 

“Tommy come down,” He mumbles. “Tommy, come down.”

And slowly, Tommy begins to descend. His friend’s eyes spark with joy and he jumps to his feet, arms extended as he pulls Tommy in for a hug. Seemingly disgruntled at the turn of events, Dream snarls something inaudible and disappears off into the distance, but both boys are too exhausted to care. 

Tubbo grabs Tommy’s hand and side by side, they go back to the overworld — to New L’manberg. They’re met with stares from friends, both old and new, melting holes into his back as he walks. He mentions something quietly in Tubbo’s ear about feeling uncomfortable with this newfound attention. His friend smiles and clasps a hand on his shoulder.

“Throw yourself into the unknown, with pace and a fury defiant.” Tubbo says, and the other can’t help but laugh lightheartedly. Tubbo knew him too well.

The familiar landscape is covered in new buildings and adorned with a new flag; Tommy thinks it’s much prettier this way. They ascend the spruce steps toward Tubbo’s home, who — once inside— immediately begins rummaging around for fresh garments for Tommy. 

Holding out a clean classic red and white baseball tee, Tubbo beams. “Clothe yourself in beauty untold,” He tosses the shirt to Tommy, who snatches it playfully and replies, “And see life as a means to a triumph.” They exchange a knowing look between one another. Despite all that they’d been through, they were victorious, and they still had each other.

Once he’s bathed and his wounds tended to, they head over to their special place, by Tommy’s old house and the old L’manbergian Embassy. The planks of the bench still feel the same as they did months ago when Tommy sits down, Tubbo directly next to him. It seems only yesterday they’d first listened to discs here, the gentle vibration of the jukebox playing as they watched the day come to a close. It was only fitting they continued the tradition.

Tubbo hummed along in tune. “Today of all days, see: how the most dangerous thing is to love.” He emphasized the last note, dragging out the word and giggling as he did so. 

With an amused manner, Tommy continued the next line “How you will heal and you'll rise above,” He made direct eye contact with Tubbo as he said this, knowing they both had a lot to talk about after the events of earlier. But such serious discussions could wait. For now, he was going to enjoy every second with his best friend. 

“Crowned by an overture bold and beyond,” Tubbo chorused, swinging his arms in an outward motion as the music swayed. 

Echoing his friend’s words from before, Tommy sung softly, “It's more courageous to overcome.” He sighed contentedly, wrapping an arm around the back of the bench as the two watched the sun sink in the sky. He could conquer anything that came his way, so long as he had Tubbo to keep him grounded.

**Author's Note:**

> there it is! this is quite unusual from how i write normally, so it was somewhat of a challenge but i'm happy with how it turned out c: achilles come down is one of my favorite songs and i thought it suited dsmp!tommy's character pretty well!


End file.
